


Cousins

by monkeycat



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-05-14 13:54:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19274677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monkeycat/pseuds/monkeycat
Summary: "Wow, the Hero of Ferelden is kind of an asshole."An answer to the r/dragonage Weekly Writing Prompt:  What if your Warden was the warden met by Hawke and company during the Arishok attack on Kirkwall?





	Cousins

The city was burning, and Hawke was _pissed._

People often told her she had a temper, and in the past handful of years she had done her utmost to tame it. But at the moment she felt her current rage was completely justified. Not only had that two-faced pirate wench run off with the only hope they had of getting these Qunari to finally feck off, Aveline, Guard-Captain of Having a Huge Stick Up One’s Arse, had managed to place the final straw on a scale that had already been teetering dangerously for some time. Hawke spent all her time running around Maker-forsaken Kirkwall, trying to clean up all the shit that other people started, and it turned out the people she really should have been worried about were her own friends, Void take them all.

“How many Qunari were squashed into that tiny compound?” Varric sounded impressed as they paused to catch a breath after a particularly intense skirmish. He used the side of his sleeve to give Bianca a careful wipe. “They must have been sleeping on top of each other at night. Or hiding in barrels during the day.”

Hawke barely heard what he was saying. She was pointing at Aveline accusingly. “Did you really have to push the Arishok for a pair of measly elves?” Fenris looked at her with a raised eyebrow, but she was too busy glaring to notice. “Darktown and Lowtown bursting at the seams with lowlifes and miscreants, and you just had to insist on punishing a couple of poor bastards who frankly did the world a favor.”

Aveline’s jawline was set even more stubbornly than usual. “You don’t know that for certain.”

“Stop being such an ass, Aveline.” Hawke snapped, her usually warm brown eyes glowing golden rage in the firelight. Aveline flushed until her cheeks almost matched her hair. “Even you don’t believe that. And now I’ve announced to half of Kirkwall that I’m an apostate. All this time sneaking around, wielding mana like a drunkard trying to thread a needle with a frayed rope, and now I’m done for.” Hawke waved her staff around for emphasis. “Hello, Templars! Here’s your friendly neighborhood maleficar!”

“I understand you’re angry, but that’s no excuse for being a complete idiot,” Fenris said coolly, just as another group of Qunari rounded the corner, clearly attracted by Hawke’s antics.

Hawke was actually itching to blow something up, and despite Aveline clearly being in the wrong she couldn’t really set her own friend on fire. And there was something very freeing about being able to toss subtlety to the winds now. Hawke reached up with a flourish, made a fist, brought it down violently all in one motion. In response, an invisible force tossed the muscled Qunari into a tangled heap, like dead leaves caught in a whirlwind.

Grinning gleefully, Hawke prepared another spell meant to smash them into the ground, hopefully into a satisfying pulp. But just as she raised her staff, a hail of ice and wind came out of nowhere, surrounding the Qunari in the blink of an eye. The cold was so fierce that Hawke felt her eyelashes freeze, and she and her companions quickly backed off lest they get caught up in the eddies of the blizzard.

“What in Andraste’s name…” Aveline cursed, bringing up her shield and squinting through the blast.

Hawke could just about make out that the Qunari had been transformed into awkwardly posed ice sculptures in the midst of the storm. An oddly familiar figure was rushing in, hacking at them with precise blows that reduced them to a heap of shards in minutes.

Hawke raised her staff, snapped out a spell that quickly dispelled the magical storm, leaving them staring at an incongruous handful of Wardens covered in snow. One of them was Carver. He had a smirk on his face as he sheathed his sword, the tip of his nose red from the cold.

“You must be Marian,” one of the Wardens said by way of greeting.

“I’m Hawke,” Hawke replied shortly, trying not to stare at the woman. She had auburn hair pulled back in a messy ponytail and dark eyes that seemed perpetually amused. Something about the lines of her jaw gave Hawke the oddest feeling, as if she were looking into a distorted mirror.

“Sister, this is Solona Amell, Warden-Commander of Ferelden,” Carver announced, looking so smug that Hawke briefly contemplated whacking him in the stomach with her staff. She refused to be intimidated by her cousin, the… Andraste’s flaming knickers, by the goddamn Hero of Ferelden, standing in front of her like some unlikely plot twist in one of Varric’s awful novels.

“Thanks for the help, cousin,” she said breezily.

“What can I say, I’m a helper,” Solona looked at Hawke with a faint smile, and Hawke instantly felt like she was being weighed and measured and perhaps found wanting. “Carver’s told me so much about you. I’m surprised at you wielding your magic so openly.”

“Yes, well, it’s been a day full of surprises,” Hawke muttered.

“Not very nice surprises, by the looks of things,” quipped another Warden in the group, his green eyes crinkled in amusement. “I prefer my surprises to be in the form of cake.”

Solona shot him an unexpectedly warm smile that faded as she looked back at Hawke. “The unexpected is no excuse for panic. Provided you survive this day, I doubt you’d want to escape the anger of the Arishok just to be cooped up in the Circle for the rest of your life.”

Hawke opened her mouth for an angry retort, but Aveline interrupted. “Are you able to help us against the Arishok, Warden-Commander?”

She pursed her lips and looked regretful, but shook her head. “You have my sympathies, but our priorities are elsewhere. We have already spent too much time dawdling here.”

“Yes, it’s only the entire city of Kirkwall on fire and about to be enslaved to the Qun,” Hawke smiled, her words dripping with sarcasm. “Never mind us, we’ll be right as rain.”

“I'm disappointed, cousin," Solona looked at Hawke sorrowfully, and Hawke had to repress the urge to apologize profusely under that gaze. "I wouldn't think a few angry Qunari would give you pause."

"Not at all, cousin." Hawke bared her teeth in an insincere grin. "But you’d think having the Qunari about to conquer a city in the Free Marches would merit at least a tiny bit of urgency. Or is there an Archdemon flying about that we managed to miss?”

"Our business is our own, but be assured it is vital to the survival of all in Thedas, not just Kirkwall." Solona was rummaging in her pockets, ignoring Hawke looking daggers at her. She fished out something and extended her hand to Hawke. Hawke reached out and felt a smooth weight drop into her palm.

“This is the only help I can offer at the moment. But I have faith in you, cousin. If even half of what Carver has said about you is true, you’ll have the Arishok eating out of your hand by suppertime, I’m sure.” The Warden-Commander smiled. “And if not… well, we’ll have to clean up your mess at that point, I suppose, but fortunately I'm used to cleaning up after messes. Best of luck to you, cousin!”

“Bye, sister,” Carver waved cheerfully as the Wardens turned and disappeared down a side street, as suddenly as they had appeared. Hawke and her friends were left staring after them, speechless.

“Wow, the Hero of Fereldan is kind of an asshole.” Varric finally said.

Aveline arched a brow. “It must run in the family.”

“Shut up, Aveline, I still haven’t forgiven you.” Hawke hoisted her staff and pointed in the direction of Hightown. “Well, come on then. We have a date with the Arishok. Wouldn't want to keep him waiting.”


End file.
